I Can't Kiss You if You're Talking
by A. C. Potter
Summary: She wants to leave. And truth be told, he just doesn't care if she does, either.  Or does he? Rated T for sexual themes


He tipped the bottle and drowned the bottom of his glass in red wine. From just meters away, he could hear the sound of zippers on suitcases and Ziploc bags being filled and sealed. Ask him what he'd done. Go on, ask him. Better yet, ask her. She frustratedly yanked bags off of the bed and through the small door frame, fighting the bigger ones until she was red in the face. Blonde hair flopped in her eyes as she wrenched her last suitcase through.

She turned to face him, a storm raging within her gray eyes. He, however, managed to maintain a straight face simply to insult her. He knew his plan had worked when she elbowed a picture frame off the fireplace in search of a reaction from him, but all he could do was shrug it off. It was a photo they took at Camp years ago; a photo that no longer mattered to him. "I'm leaving." She huffed, and he guessed she was trying to egg him on. Leaning back into his seat, he took a long and meaningful sip from his glass and said, "Tell me something I don't know, Wise Girl." In a nonchalant tone, toying with a nickname he gave her many moons ago. He figured it to be appropriate in an ironic way, considering her statement was nothing but stupid.

"I cannot believe you don't even care." She spat coldly, as if she were throwing an icy dagger at him from between her lips. Annabeth had always been better with a knife, but her skills seemingly faltered when he was able to dodge that one. "You forgot your keys." He pointed out, ignoring her statement completely. "What makes you think I want them?" Clearly her anger was getting the best of her because anyone could have answered that question. "The fact you won't be getting too far without them." He chuckled coldly and stroked the 'lock' button on her car keys. She reached for them wordlessly but he snatched them up before her fingers could curl over them.

"Wanna play fetch?" He smirked, giving her a bit of real emotion for the first time this evening. He pushed the window opened and slid the key ring around his index finger, twirling them outside the window of their 24th floor apartment. "Perseus Jackson, if you drop my keys out that goddamned window, I'll kill you in your sleep." She slammed an angry fist on the table as if to let him know that she meant business, but all he could do is laugh. "You look so damn ridiculous right now, Annabeth. Why don't you put a bookmark on this fucking phony charade of yours and relax?" He slid the key ring up and down his finger, attempting to tease her with it. Zeus knows if it'd work, but why the hell not? If she was going to act like a child, why couldn't he?

"Just give me my damn keys, Percy. That's it. That's all you have to do, then I'll be gone." Their eyes locked for a moment. Green to grey. Indifferent to angry. He felt as though he was staring through the transparency of a ghost and wondered for a moment if she finally had died and gone to hell, or if his mind was just playing tricks on him. She was a frigid, cold hearted woman, so why was he still here? Why didn't he give her the keys and let the bitch go? Why was he twirling them around his fingers and thanking the Gods they were out of her reach, courtesy of the dining room table? Because he loved her, that's why.

"What if I don't want you to be gone?" He offered, his strong outer shell finally snapping. It was only so long before the walls that held his mean front up came crashing down. Invulnerability can keep you safe from physical harm, and to his misfortune, Annabeth's eyes were not included in that. The candlelight from the table was the only light source in the room, other than the one from the bedroom they had shared, left on from Annabeth during her packing spree. The gold colored her face nicely, he thought. Pretty girl… Pretty, pretty girl. The air smelled of her perfume and something along the lines of warm pastries and marshmallows. Their apartment had always smelled like that, Zeus knows how, but tonight it seemed stronger than ever.

She studied his face for a moment as if she were contemplating this, but he didn't wait for her reply. Grabbing her by the belt loops of her jeans, he pulled her close to him and secured his knees around her legs. Clearly she disagreed with this gesture because she fought her legs from between his and brushed herself off. He was expecting a slap in the face-he was not expecting her to sit on his lap and latch her legs around his waist. His hands ventured up and down her jean clad thighs as his tongue roamed around her soft, wet mouth.

As she smashed her lips to his, she could taste the most subtle hint of arousal mixed in with red wine. The more he massaged her thighs, the warmer she grew between the legs. The only thing keeping the room from a dead silence was the sound of the warm wind blowing the curtains and their hungry mouths fighting for dominance. Just minutes prior, they were arguing about relationship issues, and now they were fighting for the 'pants'. Annabeth rarely ever settled for second best, and she knew damn well Percy hated it when she was on top, so that's probably why she wanted it so badly-anything to get him all riled up and angry. One of Annabeth's guilty pleasures was Percy all bothered and hot, especially when he'd yell or cuss. She just thought it was the sexiest thing-and the way he'd roughly wrestle her in bed would practically throw her into an immediate orgasm.

He grabbed her wrist as she went for the collar on his button-down, knowing she'd try to undo it the second she got her greedy little hands on him. He took her other hand to prevent any future conflict with it on his journey to satisfy her the way he wanted to. She was so damn stuborn and persistent, it was almost frustrating. He fisted her golden locks in his free hand and brought her face closer to his. In the process, she managed to worm her tongue into his mouth, claiming the prize of dominance, but he figured he'd let her.

He scooped her up and laid her on the dining room table in one swift motion, making sure to cup his hand under her head so she didn't hit it off the hard wood. He blew out the candle and shoved the curtain opened just a bit farther so the twilight could light her up. As he took the finishing sip from his wine glass, he ran his hand up and down her stomach, giving her goosebumps on her arms. He put the glass down on the kitchen counter and strode back to her on the table, scanning her quickly with his green eyes. "I'm sorry baby," he started, knotting his fingers together. "Sex now, sorry later." She husked and impatiently pulled him by the hand.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, guys. Honesty time~ would this be better left as is, or should I add more? Let me know.**


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